Christmas Eve Night
by xSymnia
Summary: "She was beautiful without meaning to be, without knowing it, and that was what he liked about her." On Christmas Eve, Head Boy and Girl Draco and Hermione learn more about each other than any number of Prefect meetings or bickering matches could ever do.


**-I do not own Harry Potter, the lovely J.K. Rowling does-**

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There she sat; illuminated by large flames burning in the fireplace, head down reading a book, completely engrossed. It was almost midnight, Christmas Eve. Most students who were staying for the holidays would be fast asleep now – or trying to – excited for the next day, but not Hermione. She was already content; it was just her and her book. She moved slightly, pulling the woollen blanket further up her shoulder, but not taking her eyes off the pages.

She was beautiful without meaning to be, without knowing it, and that was what he liked about her. Plus, she looked just gorgeous in the light of the fireplace. The Head Girl Hermione was of inner beauty, she was smart and sassy, and wouldn't take no for an answer. She had astounding confidence in her magic and her work, in the people she loved –

_Merlin! _The sharp voice inside Malfoy's head snapped him out of his staring. He moved into the shadows of the staircase as to not be seen by the girl sitting on the chaise across the room. He needn't have had to; Hermione was still absorbed by her book. The voice continued, spitting and hissing. He blocked it out, stepping back and collapsing onto the bottom step, head in his hands. To be truthful, he didn't know what was going on with his head. He didn't know what he felt about Hermione, or what she thought about him, if she even liked him more than "her fellow Head". They had never spoken more than a word than necessary to each other, never had more than a second of eye contact unless critical. He didn't even know what her favourite book was, which Quidditch team she backed. Malfoy sat there for some time, fighting a losing battle in his mind, convincing himself that he couldn't love her.

There was a rustle of bone-dry pages, then the _thud _of a heavy book cover closing. Hermione gave a deep yawn, stretching her arms up and around and attempting to stretch out the crick in her neck. She should have been in bed a long time ago; it must have been more than an hour since lights-out. Leaving the blanket and the fire, she gradually moved towards the staircase, tired and sleep-walker like. Her private room at the top of the staircase was calling, with the comfortable four-poster bed and amazing view over the - currently frozen - Black Lake.

Hermione reached the staircase – now only lit by her wand-light - and saw _him_. He was sitting on the bottom step, head in his hands, shaking uncontrollably with what she realised to be tears. His platinum blonde hair had become as messy as Harry's, created so by hands pulling at it in frustration. Malfoy should have been in bed by now, just as she should, but here he was, crying, alone at the bottom of the staircase.

What he was doing there, she did not know. And for a split second, she wanted to Disapperate away, straight to her room, avoiding him and having to deal with this on Christmas Eve. Her mind blocked out that thought as soon as it came. Who was she to leave him like this? She was Head Girl, she was to care for the students of this school, including her fellow Head.

She knelt down beside him, studying his pale face; the tears that struck it. He hadn't noticed her, he was too upset. He balled more of his hair into fists, angrier than he had done so earlier, so vigorously that he almost pulled it out by the roots. Hermione sat there for some time, just watching him, debating whether she should wait until he was happier or not.

Her maternal instinct - something she had not realised she possessed – took over and her hand reached out towards him on its own accord, stroking the wet hairs away from his face. Malfoy froze at the sudden touch, his brain taking its time to catch up with reality. Hermione was _here_, next to him, caressing him as he cried. Every ounce of pride and self-importance swelled up inside of him, only to completely diminish when he raised his head and saw her face.

_That _face. The one of a beautiful cream colour, framed by coffee-coloured curls. With bright and sincere eyes, long lashes, no imperfections or blemishes. That exquisite face belonging to the – unknowingly – equally exquisite Head Girl, the envy of many in Hogwarts.

"What's wrong?" Malfoy almost missed her question. It was spoken softly, barely above a whisper; he could detect worry in it. Tears began to dry on his cheeks; he opened and closed his mouth dumbly, trying to find words to reply with.

"Noth-nothing." He replied finally, hurriedly wiping the salt from his face with his shirt sleeve. Malfoy wasn't completely sure she missed the tiny cough and sniff his movement was supposed to camouflage. Head Girl Hermione never missed anything – not an assignment nor homework nor the smallest indication of human emotion.

"You should be asleep." That was all Hermione said. She ignored her heart's screams. Screams ordering her to give him a hug, comfort him in time of need. But her head overruled, as it always did, and she merely knelt beside him, reminding him of the rules he already knew back-to-front. She couldn't look him in the eye now that he was staring at her so intently, so she shifted her gaze to the window, which was now frosted over with the picturesque Yuletide snow and ice. The two Heads remained on the bottom step together for some time, lit in wand-light, unsure if this scenario was to be labelled 'awkward' or 'romantic'.

"So should you, Granger." It didn't make sense in context, with so many minutes in between the statement and reply, but both completely understood. It was bickering, earnest bickering at that, but it was just like every other conversation they had outside of Prefect meetings. Nothing was serious, everything light-hearted and very impersonal. The two Heads knew close to nothing about one another; and that was strange, outsiders would say, it wasn't uncommon for the two Heads to end up in a relationship, being in such close proximity so often and such.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked again, this time slightly more forceful, ordering an answer. She moved to a comfier position, sitting down next to Malfoy, close enough to hear a whisper, but far away enough for a quick getaway if the situation got uncomfortable. She switched gazes back to the young man she sat with. The _handsome_ young man she sat with. He sighed and smoothed out his hair. They had swapped roles now, Hermione was staring at him fixedly and Malfoy studied his lap.

"Shit happens. _Relationship_ _shit _happens." That was all to be said. He was not ready to admit anything to the gorgeous Hermione Granger, Head Girl, especially that he had feelings for her. She would probably igno-

Her hand. Her delicate hand, still warm from snuggling under a blanket by the fire, squeezed his shoulder lightly. The corners of his mouth twitched, he wanted to place his hand over hers and stay there forever, sitting on the staircase, on Christmas Eve night, with Hermione, just talking.

Hermione's body was acting on its own accord once again. She had no control; her heart had completely overtaken her head, her emotions taking precedence over reason, her wishes over practicality. She steadied herself to her feet, and then leant down to kiss his forehead. It was short and sweet, just a light press of lips on skin.

_What are you doing? _Her head was shrieking. _Are you completely insane?_

She moved away only slightly, their eyes just a couple of centimetres apart, their lips even less. They gazed at each other for what felt like hours, studying every inch of the other's face. Hermione saw the faintest smile on his lips before the gap between them closed.

The kiss started slow, they were just savouring each other, experiencing a wonderful new sensation, then the romantic share kicked in. It grew heated and passionate, faster and hungrier. The only thing on Hermione's mind was Draco, and how she wanted him. Her hands moved to cup his pale cheeks, then down to around the back of his neck. His took a similar route, but then to her hair, combing through it roughly, trying to bring her closer to him. He stood up to meet her height, moving to back her against the wall of the staircase, pinning her between his body and the stone. She hadn't noticed, she was wound up in him, and for a short moment, Malfoy felt a heave of pride, happy that he had managed to intrigue the Head Girl more than a stupid book.

Instinct had their hands running over each other's body, gasping for breath only to go right back and have it taken away again. All thoughts besides each other were deemed useless. All excitations of the following day vanished. The Head Boy and Head Girl were alone in their shared world of the common room's staircase.

Gradually, they moved further up the stairs, towards Hermione's room, the closer of the two. The door slammed shut, not to be opened until morning.

Outside, on the opposite side of the Head's Tower, the clock struck twelve. The long, overpowering bells to be heard across Hogwarts and Hogsmeade were rendered unnecessary to both Draco and Hermione, who by then had already had their Christmas wishes granted.

Hermione never did find out why Draco was crying alone at the bottom of the staircase on Christmas Eve night, but needless to say, it became one of the first times she was grateful to have him as her fellow Head.

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**Merry Christmas!**

**My first Harry Potter fic, hopefully the characters weren't too OOC.**

**-Kailey Roxanna Rose  
**


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